Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
by ManateeMama
Summary: Brenda and Fritz are each offered jobs - thousands of miles apart. Is there a way to maintain their marriage while reaching for different career goals?


**A/N: When I watched "Two Options" on Major Crimes I wondered how the discussion between Brenda and Fritz about their job prospects would play out. This story is the result.**

Fritz knew something was wrong as soon as Brenda opened the back door. Her quick movement as she turned away from him and closed the door, her solemn expression and her darting eyes all gave her away. An equal giveaway was the quick way she recovered, smiled, and kissed him, talking non-stop about nothing. While it was the classic Brenda avoidance move that she often used on him, he knew she had never displayed such vulnerability when she was on the job. So this display didn't alarm him. No, it warmed his heart.

He knew from experience that the best approach would be to bide his time and wait until she was ready to talk about what was bothering her. And, judging by her behavior, the Big Reveal would soon follow. Besides, he also knew from experience that prodding would be counterproductive. She had a rare talent for evasive maneuvering.

"Hi," he simply said as he kissed her.

"… and Andrea Hobbs said that Investigations needs to find this minister. But I don't think he's still in this country so it won't be easy."

Fritz just smiled at her word avalanche. "You'll find him. I have faith in you."

"Mmm. That's exactly what Andrea said," Brenda nodded as she gave her vocal cords a rest in order to swallow some wine.

When her plate was empty, Fritz held up one of the cartons and asked, "Do you want any more?" When she said no, he closed the carton and continued, "In that case I'm going to refrigerate the rest of this stuff." He carried the food into the kitchen and began scooping the leftovers into bowls. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Brenda still sitting at the table staring straight ahead and chewing her upper lip. _Brace yourself. Here it comes. _As he covered the bowls with plastic wrap and put them in the refrigerator he took another furtive look. Her position and expression had not changed.

"Honey, could you come back in here? I need to tell you somethin'."

"Oh, what is it?" he asked as casually as he could carry off.

"I got a phone call today… From Jackie Miles."

"Oh, how are things in good old DC?"

"Good… I guess… It wasn't the topic of conversation."

"Then what did she want?"

"She wanted to know if she could give my telephone number to Dalton Ensinger."

"Who is Dalton Ensinger?"

"The Undersecretary of Homeland Security. He called me."

"What did he want?"

"He offered me a job."

Fritz's heart stopped beating but he kept his composure. "What kind of a job?"

"He's developin' a new unit to investigate incidents of domestic terrorism, and he wants me to head it up."

"And this job would be based in…?"

"In DC." As she spoke her eyes darted away as if the words were visible and too awful to watch as they left her mouth.

"I see." Fritz hurriedly took another sip of his water to cover his reaction.

"My unit would be in charge of investigatin' things like the Tsernaev bombin's and the Fort Hood shootin'."

Brenda kept her head down and stared at her plate as she talked. And the bottom dropped out of Fritz's world.

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anythin'. I didn't know what to tell him."

_Patience, Fritz, patience. There's definitely more to this story._

When he didn't comment it was her turn to raise her eyes for a quick glance. Then she continued, "The job pays $600,000 a year."

"That's a lot." Fritz recovered and just looked at her, waiting.

Brenda nodded and once again avoided looking at him. "It's not the money. It's just that this is the job I've always wanted."

"Are you going to take it?"

She looked at him and, for the first time, he saw the misery in her eyes. "If it were here in LA I already would have taken it. But it means movin' back to DC and…"

"Did you give him an answer?"

"No, not yet," she admitted as she shook her head.

"I see. When do you have to give him your decision?"

"There's no deadline. He just asked me to consider it. The position isn't even funded yet but he's sure that he'll have the money before this session of Congress adjourns. And he says if he doesn't get it from Congress he'll squeeze it from his current budget. But he wants to see what Congress will do first."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. He took me completely by surprise." Then she looked directly at Fritz and asked, "What do _you_ want to do?"

"Well, if you take it, I'll have to put in for a transfer to DC."

Brenda nodded. "Then it would mean we'd have to sell the house. I love this house. I don't want to move again."

"There are nice houses in DC and Virginia too."

She nodded again and was quiet for a minute before saying, "Let's not talk about it anymore right now." This was a signature Brenda move to close a difficult subject and she punctuated it by getting up, grabbing the plates and heading into the kitchen.

* * *

Jerry entered Fritz's office and closed the door behind him, startling Fritz. "Why the closed door? What's up?"

"Coffee break gossip."

"Are you becoming an office gossip now?" Fritz was confused because Jerry was usually contemptuous of the mindless gossiping that permeated the break room.

"I am when it affects me. It's about you so I'm just going to ask. Are you leaving the LA office?"

Fritz let out a long breath. "Possibly. I'm thinking about it."

"Why?"

"Brenda's considering a job in DC. If she takes it, we'll have to move."

"When?"

"I don't know. It all depends on Congressional politics. Besides, we haven't made up our mind yet. How did you hear about this, anyway? Neither Brenda nor I have said anything to anybody about it."

"I just told you. It's break room stuff." When Fritz just stared at him, Jerry continued, "Someone saw you checking the bulletin board postings after work last night. But more important, have you said anything to the boss yet?"

"No, I just told you. I haven't said anything to anyone – except you now."

"Well, you'd better tell him. You know how he hates to hear news like that through the grapevine."

Fritz shook his head. "If she takes the job I will. But it's too soon."

* * *

That night at dinner Fritz asked, "Anything new on the job front?"

"No."

Fritz was relieved to see that she was looking him in the eye. "Well, I have some news. It seems that everyone at work noticed that I was checking transfers posted on the bulletin board."

"Why in the world were you doin' that? There's no job. And even if there were I'm not sure I want to move back to DC."

"There's no job? So Dalton Ensinger took the time out of fighting terrorism around the globe to make a social call?" Fritz snorted.

"Oh, you know what I mean. The job is gonna happen. I just don't know when and I don't even know if I want it, so quit jumpin' the gun."

"Yeah, you want it, all right. I'm just glad we don't have to call the movers this weekend."

She knew he was right so she responded in the only way she could. She gave him the stink-eye.

* * *

Brenda sat at her desk trying to review the file for an upcoming fraud trial but her mind kept drifting. After talking to Fritz she realized that she needed to consider his feelings more than she had. But what were his real feelings? And what were her own?

_One thang I'm not good at is feelin's. This focusin' on the livin' is harder than it looks. I've wanted a job like this ever since I left the Company. Why couldn't this job be in Los Angeles? I wonder if Fritzi can transfer when the job starts. I need to ask him about that tonight. Only I need to be careful of his feelin's._

But she didn't have to wait until evening. Her secretary buzzed her, "Agent Howard is on line four."

"Thank you, Linda," and she punched the button. "Hi, honey. Did you call to rescue me from the most boring case record in the history of the LAPD?"

The voice on the other end chuckled and said, "No, but that's a good unintended consequence, I guess. I'm wondering if you want to buy me lunch today."

"Now, that's the way to a girl's heart. Ask her for a lunch date and let her know she's got to pick up the tab."

"I'm an impoverished public servant who has to pay for parking," he protested.

"Poor baby!" she laughed, "All right. But it'll have to be at a food truck. I've wasted too much time this mornin' to go sit in a restaurant."

"In that case, how about meeting me at Confeastador in half an hour. They have picnic tables."

"You've got a date."

As they ate, Brenda brought up Fritz's job. "If I were to take this job, how long would it take for a transfer to come through for you?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On if there's a job opening and who else wants it."

"So it wouldn't be automatic?"

"Not at all. I would have to wait until a Special Agent job opens up and put in for it. And other Special Agents from all over the country could put in for it too. Then they'd have to look at everybody and decide."

"How long would that take?"

"Depends on how many agents want the job."

"But what's your best guesstimate?"

"Oh… that process would take three to four weeks."

"Do you know how often there's a spot open in DC?"

"No, but things seem to roll over quite often."

"So…"

"Every three to six months, maybe."

Brenda was dismayed, "That long? I thought you could transfer sooner than that."

He shook his head, "I've got all my years of service in so I'm eligible to retire. They're probably going to pick a younger agent, if one applies."

"What about seniority? You must have seniority over a lot of agents who would apply."

"Well, yeah, seniority might help." He stopped and looked at Brenda a minute before continuing, "But there's another potential roadblock."

"What kind of roadblock?"

"Well, a couple of weeks ago I was involved in an LAPD case involving an Indian diplomat and his runaway daughter."

"Did diplomatic immunity cause problems?"

"Well, yeah. It was a problem. Sort of."

"Fritz, you're drivin' me crazy. Are you gonna tell me about this or am I gonna have to use Chinese water torture to get the information out of you?"

He sighed and then began, "When her father found out where she was hiding, he beat her. Then he barged into the Murder Room grabbed her and slammed her into the wall. I overreacted and punched him."

"Oh, Fritz! You didn't!"

He nodded, "And I hit him a second time. He was abusing her, Brenda, and I couldn't let him do that." Brenda groaned and put her head in her hands, but Fritz continued, "I could have stepped between them. Or I could have grabbed her and pulled her away from him. Hell, I could have pulled him off of her. I didn't have to punch him."

"Fritz, do you know how many diplomats there are in Washington, DC?"

"I know, I know. And the DC office will hear about my action so getting a transfer will be extra hard. I mean, I'll try. And my boss will do what he can for me, but…"

"This is not lookin' good," she replied glumly, "It's beginnin' to feel like we're between the devil and the deep blue sea. Maybe I should just give up the idea."

"If you really want the job, don't give up on it yet. If I can't transfer, I could retire and find another job in Washington."

"I could never ask you to do that. No, we have to move together. And when you retire should be your decision. I don't want you to be pressured into it because of my job."

"We'll work it out. As you said, the job hasn't even been created yet. So let's just hang in there for a little while longer and see what happens."

* * *

The following day, Fritz spent his spare moments thinking about Brenda's job offer. He knew she wanted to accept it and he knew that any opportunity he might have to transfer to DC would take time. If he wasn't going to retire yet it was important to figure out how to survive three to six months of separation. He was sure that their marriage was strong enough to survive. But still… The month they were separated when Brenda went to Atlanta after leaving the LAPD was hard on them both. Could they, with proper planning, lessen the hardship of an even longer separation?

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing phone.

"Agent Howard, this is Sharon Raydor. We have a case which demands FBI assistance."

"Good morning, Sharon. What can I do for you?"

"An elderly couple were both murdered this morning and their grandchildren are now missing. Would you be able to get us some background information on these people? The victims are J. B. and Sandra Lanier, both 72. Their grandchildren are Henry Lanier, age 9, and Mandy Lanier, age 7. According to a neighbor, their son died of a brain tumor and their daughter-in-law is named Linda. We've got S.O.B. assistance but we really need our FBI liaison to get background information on this family. Oh, and she's got a fiancé. Unfortunately we don't have anything on him, not even his name. But, if in your search, you come across him we'd like that information, as well."

"I'll be glad to do what I can. Let me do some checking and I'll bring everything I can find to your office."

All thoughts of his personal life left his consciousness as he grabbed his notes and headed down the hall. As this case unpacked itself, Fritz realized that he was going to be working late into the night so he texted Brenda. _Working late with MC on a double murder and double critical missing. Don't wait up. XOXO. _

* * *

Driving home after midnight, Fritz should have been exhausted. But not only was his adrenalin still surging, he felt happier and more alive than he had in years. He had led the team which saved a woman and two children. And that sure beat the never-ending dismissive attitude he had to swallow and accept from Major Crimes. He was thrilled that he had had the opportunity. It was certainly more satisfying than anything he'd accomplished for the Bureau for several years.

He knew he should feel revulsion that he put a bullet through a man's brain at point-blank range but, truth be told, he was glad that he did it. That asshole was using his own child as a human shield. That precious little girl… Oh, how Fritz ached to have a sweet little girl like that. But it was not to be and he had long ago accepted his childless state. Even so, holding and comforting that sobbing child satisfied something within him, something primal, and left him smiling.

As he drove his mind drifted to the after action cleanup. Chief Taylor had offered him the position of Deputy Chief of S.O.B. He had felt he had to turn it down because of the possibility of Brenda's DC job. And Taylor's insinuation that a long distance marriage should be acceptable to him due to his age grated on his nerves. But his insinuation that a long distance marriage should be acceptable because he was married to Brenda had set his teeth on edge. It was as if Taylor was assuming that Fritz would be glad to get rid of her. He had heard story after story about how Taylor had sabotaged Brenda's investigations for years. The position of FBI liaison prevented him from setting Taylor straight but it certainly didn't squelch the urge.

_There's more than one SOB at the LAPD,_ Fritz thought, _Do I really want to work for the man who would blatantly sabotage a woman just because she held a higher rank and came from outside the LAPD? And not just any woman – the woman I love. I'd also be coming from outside the LAPD, and he would be my supervisor... He's such an ass kisser… What would I be getting into? I wonder what Brenda will say…_

_$250,000 a year… Deputy Chief… Hadn't Taylor described it as being a general with my own army? And the adrenalin rush and feeling of accomplishing something that had immediate rewards… Saving three lives… Eliminating a depraved killer. Wow, what a rush!_

Fritz was so wound up in his thoughts that he almost missed the turn onto his own street. He wasn't surprised that all the lights were off so he crept silently into the house and paused a minute to let his eyes adjust to the darkness then quietly went to bed. But he lay awake a long time as thoughts of the day's events snaked through every part of his brain.

* * *

The following morning, Fritz had every intention of telling Brenda that Taylor had offered him the position of Deputy Chief of S.O.B. But when Brenda woke him up with kisses and roaming hands, he couldn't even remember his name. Besides, it was much better to surrender to her blissful ministrations than to even try to think of anything work related. So he turned to her and dove into their love with joyful abandon. Later, as Brenda dressed for work, he watched her progress, his eyes hazy with love. And after she kissed him goodbye, he drifted back to sleep with a contented smile still on his face.

* * *

Brenda was talking to Andrea Hobbs about the Martese case. More specifically, where to look for a minister who likely embezzled money from the charity run by his church and may have fled the country. "If you don't have any idea where he might have gone, I'm not sure we can catch him."

"He's already being tried in absentia, but that's far from a sure thing. I need Investigations to find him. We know he was spotted at the airport getting on an airplane bound for Philadelphia, but with two stops."

"But he used an alias so we have no idea which of those stops he might have used."

"Brenda, I don't know what has you so distracted lately but…"

"I'm not distracted."

"Yes, you are. But I need you to set aside whatever occupies your mind and focus on catching this minister and bringing him back here."

Brenda picked up the still of Daniel Martese and said, "We got the footage of three hours before and three hours after each one of the stops and we couldn't pick him out of the crowd. But we'll look at it all again."

"Thank you," Andrea said as she rose, "And may I just say if you want to talk about whatever has got you so preoccupied, you've got a friend who is also a good listener."

Brenda smiled, "Thank you." But when it became apparent that she would say no more Andrea left the office.

"Linda, could you please get me the tapes from the Martese investigation? Thank you." Just as she hung up, her cell phone rang. The caller ID said Homeland Security.

"Ms. Johnson, Dalton Ensinger here."

"Hello, Mr. Ensinger. How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you. I'm calling to ask you to come to Washington for some interviews."

This surprised Brenda since she'd already been offered the job. "Interviews? What kind of interviews?"

"Oh, not for the job. But I'd like you to meet and evaluate some candidates for other positions on the team."

"But I haven't accepted the position yet."

"I'm well aware of that. The final decision will be mine, Ms. Johnson, but I would still like to benefit from your expertise. And, while you're here I'd like to lay out my plans in more detail."

"I see. When would you like me to come?"

"I don't have any appointments set up yet, so if you'd let me know when you can come as soon as possible I can make the appointments. The interviews should take a day and a half."

"It might be awhile," she cautioned. "I've just started a difficult investigation and I can't leave until it's concluded. And I have no idea when that will be."

"In that case please get back to me as soon as you can give me a date."

"All right, sir. I will. Thank you"

* * *

That evening during dinner, Brenda told Fritz about Dalton Ensinger's call. "So, even though I wouldn't have the final say I would have some input on who the key people on the team would be."

"Do you have any idea who those people are?"

"No, not yet. But this is a huge plus. I've never been given any input on anyone I've worked with."

"Speaking of job prospects, I have some news too."

"Oh?"

Fritz nodded, "There's another job possibility in the mix." He told Brenda about Taylor's offer of Deputy Chief of the S.O.B. division.

Her eyes grew large as she remembered the speed and precision with which S.O. B. worked. That would be an amazing job opportunity for him. But she was puzzled. "But I thought that was Ann McGinness' unit. What happened to her?"

"She was offered the job more than once but she always turned it down."

"Why?"

"I haven't talked to her about it but the scuttlebutt is that she just doesn't want the job. Maybe she would rather have a supervisor than be responsible for the lives of the people in the unit."

"Or, maybe she doesn't like directly reportin' to Taylor, either." Brenda processed this for a minute. "So we could once again have a Deputy Chief in the family?"

"Well, I turned it down. But Taylor didn't sound like he accepted my decision."

"Fritzi, why did you turn it down? This is a tremendous second career opportunity for you. Besides, you're so calm and level headed about thangs. You'd be amazin'."

"If you take the job in DC I'm coming with you."

"Well, I just decided. You're takin' this job offer and I'm not takin' mine."

"Now, wait a minute. Yes, this job would be a great second career. But you said it yourself. That's the job you've always wanted."

Although they discussed both job opportunities throughout the evening, they remained stalemated and they fell asleep each wondering what changes were awaiting them.

* * *

The next day, Brenda called three of her investigators and asked them to help in the search for Daniel Martese so they met in her conference room, laptops in hand. Finally, Burt Calero said, "This could be him." Everyone pushed pause on their own laptop and gathered around Burt's, squinting at the screen. They all saw a man with his head down picking up his luggage at the Philadelphia airport and flagging a cab. "See?" Burt said, "He's the same size and he's wearing the same shoes."

"I do believe you're right, Burt. Good job! He wouldn't have stayed in Philadelphia long so we need to find him departin' again. We need to check all the departure gate footage from Philadelphia and the three New York airports, as well."

"What about the Washington, DC airports, Chief?" Burt asked.

"Good idea. Get those as well," Brenda nodded.

After hours of searching, they found him again but their discovery did not give them a sense of accomplishment. Instead, the mood was as deflated as a balloon with a pin sticking into it.

"He's boardin' a plane for Caracas," Brenda sighed.

"Uh huh. And it's a non-stop. He's there by now, Chief."

"And we can't touch him there," Brenda scowled. "Thank you, everyone. I know it's not the outcome we wanted but you worked hard and now, at least, we know. Go home and get some rest," she continued and left the room to call Andrea and let her know that trying Martese in absentia was all that could be done.

* * *

"Hey, Fritzi, what are you still doin' up?" she asked as she passed him on her way to their bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went.

Fritz looked up from a small stack of papers and called after her, "Brenda, can you come here? I've been working on a plan and I want you to see it."

"What plan?" she asked as she rounded the corner from their bedroom and walked barefoot into the living room.

"Sit down and I'll show you," he replied as he laid his papers out on the coffee table. "I've been thinking about how we could handle being separated if you take that job in DC and I take the S.O.B. job."

"Fritzi, I already told you that I'm not gonna take that job."

"Have you told that to Homeland Security?"

"Well, no. Not yet. I spent all day chasin' an embezzlin' minister. I didn't have time to call him."

"Well, before you make that call look at this."

"It looks like a calendar."

"It is. I've laid out what…"

"This is for a whole year. Are you plannin' on us bein' separated for a whole year?"

"Brenda, will you please just…"

"What are all those boxes?"

"Honey, please stop." When he had her attention he continued, "Do me a favor and just listen without interrupting. Let me explain everything and then we'll talk about it, I promise, but hear me out first."

Brenda let out a long breath before replying. "Okay."

"Thank you. Now, as you noticed, each paper represents a month so there are twelve of them." He paused and waited for Brenda to interrupt him and, when she just nodded, he continued. "See, there are weekends marked off with a B and the same number marked off with an F. You're going to take two long weekends off each month and fly to LA. And I'm going to take two long weekends each month and fly to DC. That way we'll be together four weekends each month."

Brenda scanned the papers and nodded, but once again did not interrupt.

"Now, you'll work a half day on Thursday and then catch a plane to LAX. Because of time zone changes you should arrive around the time I get off work. I'll go to work as usual on Friday so you'll be home alone during the day, but if it's a normal day I should be able to knock off work a little early so we'll be together until Sunday afternoon when you fly back to DC. And on my weekends to fly to DC you'll go to work on Friday and come home as soon as you can."

"What about these whole weeks marked B and F?" She saw him raise an eyebrow at her so she concluded, "Sorry."

"That's ok," he said softly as he turned back to his calendar presentation. "Those weeks represent our weeks of vacation. I should have four weeks of vacation a year and, for the sake of this plan, I'm assuming that you'll also have four. We don't take three of our weeks at the same time. You'll fly to LA on your weeks. Again, I'll work during the days but we'll be together every night and all day on the weekends both before and after our vacation days. The same thing when I take my weeks and come to you. We'll both have the week between Christmas and New Year so we'll be together that week without having to work. And we'll take one more week at the same time." He sat back, waiting for her reaction.

She studied the calendar sheets without speaking for another minute then said, "I don't know if I can stand goin' a whole year like this. And that's what it'll be if we both take these new jobs."

Fritz saw her sad face so he took her hand and spoke softly. "I'm not saying it's ideal or that it would be easy. It's not and it won't be. But look at it, honey. We can make it work."

"But I can't do this for the rest of my life. I would be miserable."

"So would I. But this is not permanent. We would only do this for one year. So we would have to agree that at the end of a year either you would quit your job and move back to LA or I would quit my job and move to DC. Honey, we could make it work for a year if we know that it's only temporary."

"And we'd still talk on the phone every day, just like we did when I was in Atlanta."

"Uh huh, and we'd Skype every day, too."

"I don't know… What happens if at the end of a year neither one of us wants to give up our job?"

"We have to agree up front that we'll only be apart for one year. If we can't agree on who will move, we'll have to flip a coin. But we would both have to promise to abide by the decision."

"But if you move to DC, you'd still have your full pension. I'd have to start over, poundin' the pavement."

"You could ask the District Attorney for a one year leave of absence."

"I doubt Steve would consider that."

"He might. He really likes you and he would have to know that if you resign he's lost your services for good. If he gives you a leave of absence, he has a fifty/fifty chance of getting you back in a year's time."

"I don't know…"

"And if at the end of the year we decide that you will keep your new job, you'd give DA Corning your resignation. He will already have someone in place so there should be no transition problems. If you point these things out to him, he just might go for it."

"But we can't count on this plan workin'. There could be a terrorism incident or S.O.B. would have an operation."

"True. We know there will be some interruptions. When they happen, we'll do what our jobs demand and then get right back on schedule."

"Hmm. I suppose."

"There aren't going to be interruptions all the time. We can cope with them when they happen, honey."

Brenda turned her attention back to the calendar. "This is gonna be an expensive plan."

"Yes, it would be. But you'll be making $600,000 a year and I'll be making $250,000. We can afford to do it."

Brenda nodded and looked up at Fritz, "And no givin' in to temptation."

"That's a given every day of our lives. That won't change."

"I'm still not sure we could keep our marriage goin'. Those weekends are gonna be full of hot sex but very little else that makes our marriage work. We'd be crammin' everythin' important into just a few, sporadic days."

"Military families and long haul truckers handle long term separations all the time. We can do it for one year."

Brenda nodded. "It's a genius plan, honey. I just don't know if I have what it takes to pull it off."

"You, of all people," Fritz laughed, "Have what it takes to pull it off. Just use some of that famous Brenda Leigh Johnson laser focus."

* * *

As they lay in bed they continued to talk about Fritz's plan.

"I think you should go to DC for those interviews."

"Even if I don't think I'll take the job?"

"Honey, we can make this work. If it's a job you think you might want, and I know you want it, then you should at least go to those interviews. Besides, didn't Ensinger tell you that the final decision would be his?"

"Yeah."

"Then just consider that you're serving as his advisor."

"I guess I could do that."

"We'll work everything out, honey. We can do it." Fritz rolled over to her and smiled. He stroked her hair and cheek and whispered, "When two people love each other as much as we do, they can do anything."

Brenda smiled and lightly kissed his cheek, "Maybe the deep blue sea is more shallow than I thought."

_The End_

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